Artless
by YFate
Summary: She was artlessly beautiful. And seemingly so clueless. Maybe that was why he was so drawn to her...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: This is my first try at a Naruto fanfic. It was inspired by watching DeiXIno amv's on Youtube, and then coming across a doujinshi on deviantart by Hinata-nee-chan. It's called "Eternal Art," and I totally urge you to check it out. It got me thinking about the characters, and what would drive two such people together. And voila! Here is the result. =) (Fate) _

**Chapter One**

Nature had lain the perfect canvas.

The girl lay sleeping in a small field of scarlet lilies, her pale hair lit into a halo by the sunlight that glowed around her with a hallowed light. Such an innocent little nymph, she was a true tennyo of the flowers that laid a bloody blanket of crimson fire all around her. Her silky hair---so pale and gleaming it reminded him of metal burning white-hot in the forge of a master swordsmith. The shadow of her clothing---purple, black, like roiling clouds of smoke. The perfect grace of her sleeping form, the purity of her pale skin, untouched by the ruddy tan so many blondes sported. So innocent she was, this little tennyo basking in the sunlight, an angel of life and fire and beauty. How could he not capture it forever in the fleeting purity of transience, claiming the delightful image for himself before some other stole it away from him?

The canvas called for something delicate, beautiful and sweet. His hands moved, sculpting one, two, another and another. Each tiny white figure was slightly different from the last, if only in the thin flick of its translucent wings, the oval void of its empty eyes or the simple pattern lovingly traced across its back. Oh, he was working feverishly now, for he did not want the first to go before the last was dancing upon the breeze. Caught up in the vision of a field of white butterflies drifting over a field of scarlet flowers, a young girl caught forever in the epitome of his art---he reached for more clay, disregarding how quickly it disappeared within the hungry mouths on his opened palms as his fingers shaped and molded, letting each tiny beauty go with a smile of lazy benevolence.

Oh, a pity, but she was waking now, her eyes opening to look around her with wary wonder. What beautiful eyes---so pure a blue, like the unclouded sky on a pale spring day. Oh, she was lovely, her face and form so utterly untouched and perfect. How could he not capture this fleetingly perfect moment forever? How could he not take advantage of such beauty for the sake of his art? She would never know such greatness, such glory, as in this single instant, when all would go up in a blossom of scarlet fury to arrest this perfect canvas forever in an explosion of truly epic proportions.

Ah, but she must sense some danger on the wind, which fluttered through the flowers, making them nod and dance around her like beckoning partners. Her wide eyes were fixed on the white butterflies lazily drifting towards her, dozens and dozens of them. Oh, but he must work quickly now, for he could feel her growing alarm. Her fear, so sweet as it was to savor, would not help her, for his little clay beauties were already settling gently on the bloody lilies that covered the little meadow from one end to the other. Lazily flicking their near-translucent wings, they flirtatiously crawled across the dancing petals, their empty eyes turning in her direction.

Her shoulders stiffened and her eyes flashed---oh, there was fire in her, the little darling. She really was worthy of becoming a part of his masterpiece. But there would be no escape, for she was all but surrounded, and even now he was sending the last butterfly off. His fingers moved into the jutsu that would etch this beautiful scene forever in his memory. He could see it exploding across his mind's eye, captured forever in that truest expression of art his creative soul always thirsted for.

His whisper was loving, gentle, his breath warm against the rigid tip of his calloused forefinger as he breathed, _"Katsu…"_

ooOOooOOooOOoo

She was off and running before the first butterfly exploded.

Too close---gods, she'd been stupid to have fallen asleep in the meadow. But it had always been her secret retreat, a safe haven for her to escape to when the thoughts became too much. She had never believed anyone would dare attack so close to Konoha, so deep inside the perimeter of the roving patrols. If her mental defenses had not been down in the sleepy warmth of the meadow's quiet isolation, than she would never have felt that uneasy awareness of someone watching her. Someone who watched her with a disturbing mixture of joy, avarice, and an eager anticipation tinged by malice. _That_ was what woke her---the strangeness of his idle thought. The wandering thoughts and feelings of others were always plaguing her, and she had learned to ignore them, but _that_ she could not.

Stupid---gods, she'd been stupid. But she had to concentrate, if she wanted to get out alive. For the butterflies were dancing all around her---shit, left! Dodging, legs pumping, heart in her mouth, she dove to the side, felt searing pain as fire blossomed along her thigh. _'Damn it! Concentrate, Ino!'_

She slammed her shields into place, violently summoning her chakra to smother the telltale trace of energy inside her, for the butterflies were homing in on it. She managed to deflect two of the terrible bombs with hastily thrown kunai, but that ploy would not work, for there were too many butterflies gathering around her. All she could do was run, and run and run until she could not run any more, and even then she could not let herself stop, for then they would catch her, and she could not, _would not,_ let it end like _this!_

With a sob of pure terror, she fled through the trees, the beautiful white creatures airily flowing after her with deadly intent.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

What bother. She should know how pointless it was to run---she could not escape true art. But he was surprised and flattered by her fierce will to live. She really was made of fire, his little tennyo of the woods. And how graceful she was, slipping from side to side, dodging and sliding, her will strong enough to overcome the pain as a few of the clay butterflies came too close when they exploded. The little blossoms of light lit her hair and skin with an orange and reddish glow that he could not help but admire as it played across her skin. She ran flat-out now, uncaring of the roots she stumbled over or the branches that tore at her. It was almost a pity she could not last much longer, not at this pace. He smiled, for he really did love her for trying. So fierce she was. Too bad it was in vain.

The smoke started roiling up, obscuring the delightful view as she disappeared among the thick trees. Pulling a clay bird from his pocket, he summoned his chakra and stepped lightly onto the enlarged form of his earlier creation. The wind fanned his ruddy blond hair back as the clay bird took wing, and he balanced easily as it swooped up for a better view. He could hear the muffled booms of multiple explosions and frowned as he realized he was missing all the fun. He heard a faint shout born back on the breeze, and his eyes narrowed.

Ah, the leaf-nin were finally coming; brought by the indelible noise of his artistic endeavor. Even more a bother. He must end this, and quickly, for he was supposed to be lying low. The scene had just been too perfect for him to pass up, and Master Sasori would not be pleased when he finally reported. Not that Sasori-no-danna could appreciate his type of art. The old curmudgeon alleged that art must be kept forever frozen in its purity, not savored in the fleetingness of transience. Nothing lasted forever, especially perfection. A scene captured and then destroyed by his own hand gave him power over it for all time, not the other way around. Not that the puppet-master would ever understand that.

He swooped low, trying to catch a glimpse of her among the thick shadows. Smoke billowed up all around him as fire danced across the decimated trees. What beauty there was in fire, so cleansing and easing. She was probably dead now---he had been too slow to see it. But wait---a flash of cornsilk hair, a shadow-on-shadow as she somehow managed to dodge out of the way again as one of his perfect clay butterflies exploded just overhead.

How…?

Appalled, Deidara sunk his right hand inside his pouch, the mouth on his palm snatching up the fine powder even as he knew it was too late---for he could feel the distinctive chakra of several ninja converging on the area. He could not hope to fend them all off, and he did not have enough clay left to destroy the whole area. He watched in disgust as the last of his little butterflies hit a tree dead-center, lighting the giant oak's spread limbs like a vast candelabra as it exploded. For one second, he hoped against hope that the exhausted girl had been caught in that final blast, but no---there she was, falling to her knees just beyond the tree's furnace, her wide, blue eyes terrified holes in her ashen face.

And then came the others, surrounding her and covering her as they took her away under their protection, and he had to flee lest they see him flying up there above. His fists clenched, teeth grinding together as he realized, unbelievably, that she had gotten away, taking the true expression of his art with her. The only one, perhaps, who had ever done so…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: I should probably clarify that this story takes place during the timeskip between the first Naruto series and the later Shippuden arc, and warn of spoilers from the manga. (Fate) _

**Chapter Two**

Incredibly, the next time he saw her, she was trying to blow _him_ up.

Well, maybe not him, exactly. Though the thought miffed him, that she might not have noticed him lurking in the upper branches of the tree. He was supposed to meet with one of Kakuzu's informants, some greedy turncoat from Konohagakure who had information about the nine-tailed kyuubi. Leader had instructed them to collect all the intel they could on the Jinchuuriki. Although that strung-out cheap ass had groused over handing over the cash, Kakuzu had promised the information would be worth the time and aggravation.

It'd certainly be better than anything that old stone-face Itachi brought in, since the swirly-eyed snob seemed strangely reluctant to press anyone for information on his old village. Deidara didn't mind going off on his own to meet Kakuzu's man if it meant he could show that haughty bastard up.

Although the damn ANBU agent was certainly taking his sweet time _showing_ up. Their meeting place had been prearranged, and supposedly the fool knew what he was doing. Kakuzu had said the old man he'd made the deal with was rather neurotic about his secrecy, even placing curse-seals on the tongues of his own men to keep them silent under torture. Sick bastard. Supposedly this underling of his would be able to pass on the information they wanted---for the right price, of course.

But it seemed the village elder had a few unsealed tongues wagging, for even as the masked ANBU slithered into view, Deidara heard the hollow thud of a thrown kunai sinking into the tree's thick trunk below him. A pathetic explosive's tag was folded around the quivering blade, and he sneered at the paltry trick even as he leapt away, knowing the tree was about to detonate.

It did, not a second later. He scowled, raising one arm to fend off the shattered leaves and twigs that showered all around him even as his other hand dug inside a pouch for the clay to make good his escape. He didn't know how large a team Konoha might have sent after them, though it would be three or four at a minimum. Leaf-nin were so predictable. Although their standards had sunk pretty low if they were attacking with such a weak genin move like that. It was almost insulting. He was Akatsuki, after all. An S-class criminal, a missing nin and artistic terrorist of inspiring repute.

Not that they would know, of course, who he was. Leader was rather anal about keeping their true operations a secret. He wasn't ready to reveal their hand yet. In a year or two, perhaps, they would quit skulking in the shadows and actually start to make use of the information they were gathering on the demon-vessels.

But for now, his main objective was to retreat, much as he loathed the thought of not tossing a few bombs back at the stupid ninja who had dared throw an exploding kunai at his feet. Well, not literally at _his_ feet, since the ANBU defector had probably been the leaf-team's target. Man, that was galling---as if he wasn't a target worthy enough of them!

Though their stupid genin tricks were really not worthy of _him_. Not an artist of his talent and skill. But Master Sasori would have his head for one of his damn puppets if he stopped to give back better than what they gave. So he molded a sleek spine-tailed swift to use for his escape, alighting on its expanding back even as it spread its lengthening wings and streaked upwards, using the glittering sunlight to hide his ignoble retreat.

The thought struck him, though, that there would come a day when he might be free to take his revenge on the stupid leaf-nin. Brushing his ruddy-gold hair back with an impatient hand, he fidgeted with the scope covering his left eye. Fiddling with the controls, he focused the telescopic lens so that he could narrow in on the stupid ninjas who were even now emerging from the shadow of the trees to shake their heads and argue with each other over which way the renegade ANBU had gone.

And that was when he saw _her_. The girl who had escaped him all those weeks ago in the woods. The little tennyo was rather distinctive---white-blonde hair bound up in a long ponytail, her short, purple outfit both stylish and maneuverable. Although shorter than her male companions, her legs went on for miles. Good legs, strong legs, just made for running. Those legs had escaped him once before, and circumstances were letting her escape him now, but not, he trusted, forever.

For he knew that it was she who had thrown that stupid kunai, for another was clutched in her hand, a characterized tag in the other as she argued vehemently with her bottle-brush-headed teammate. Gods, she had fire in her. Just look how those blue eyes were snapping. Her ire seemed to rise as the brown-haired man gave her a bored look, and she pouted when their jonin teacher said something, waving them back into the woods, their prey having slipped away.

She paused a moment, scowling up at the sky, as if she could somehow sense him hovering up there, although the sunlight hid him well enough to her sun-dazzled eyes. He was caught again by the sweet perfection of her face---she truly was beautiful, even if she was tactically lacking for a shinobi. Throwing that stupid bomb---gods, she was weak if that was her best move. She looked old enough to be chunin, and those earrings she wore proclaimed she was. But that was a beginner's trick, not a journeyman's, and if that was all she was capable of, than the Leaf-Village's standards had sunk to a new low. He could not scan her chakra---she was hiding it---but she was nowhere near his level of training or focus.

And that galled him no end, for how in the hell had she escaped him? The trap had been perfect, so perfect he still regretted the sweet masterpiece that had---literally---escaped him. She had denied him that, denied him his art, and how she had been able to, weak as she was, was something he could not let go of. He had to know, for his curiosity was more than his desire to finish that masterpiece, here and now, catching her unawares as he could so easily do. And that thought was so startling that he retreated, so consumed with the revelation that he all but forgot about his failed mission, or to memorize the faces of her team for future reprisal. And damn if that wasn't a worse conundrum, because he was never consumed with the thought of anyone else to the point where he forgot about himself.

And that was just another score he would eventually settle with her, once he found out why it was she intrigued him so.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Tossing her head, Ino strode disdainfully away. Let the others in Team 10 go on their stupid mission without her. It wasn't as if she cared that they were going on an A-class mission with Billboard-Brow while she stayed behind learning medical jutsu. Of course, Tsunade-sama didn't have to point out that Sakura had already learned those same jutsu and that Ino still had quite a bit of catching up to do. Miss Big Boobs Hokage didn't have to rub it in so damn much that she wasn't half the medic-nin her sometime best friend and oft-time rival was.

Ino knew she was acting the brat, but she just couldn't leave the thought alone that she was coming up short---again. She was no match for Sakura's stunning chakra control, and she knew it. No matter how hard she tried, Sakura was always that much better than her. As time went on, the difference between their innate skills and level became painfully clear. Ino knew she was no match for the pink-haired chunin, but she'd been using Sakura as a yardstick to measure herself against for so long, she couldn't help it.

It did little to help Ino's growing discomfort as that difference became more and more obvious. With Sasuke's defection and Naruto's departure to train with that old perv Jaraiya, Sakura was at loose ends. The Hokage had no problem with sending her prized pupil out on missions with other teams. She was the best medic-nin after all, although Ino hated admitting that harsh truth.

It just seemed that as time went on, her own abilities were not needed. And while she had the unique telepathy of the Yamanaka clan, she didn't like to use it for reasons of her own. Ones her father couldn't understand, even though she had tried to explain her reluctance. Other people's thoughts could just be so overwhelmingly _intimate_, and Ino loathed that exposure. It was sometimes hard to separate her _self_ from that other, and her sensitivity had grown over the years, not lessened as her father had assured her it would.

She'd hidden that fact from him, not wanting to disappoint him there as well. Bad enough she'd been born a girl, when his two best friends and former teammates had had strong sons to carry on their names and bloodline traits. Although Inoichi had never said as much to her, she'd overheard his friends and knew his acute disappointment when no other children---namely, younger brothers---had been born. She knew her mother blamed herself, and her depression over that fact had led to a strained relationship between mother and daughter. Ino knew it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't help but feel like it was. Adding that to all the other disappointments her poor skills were (at least, when compared to Sakura's chakra or Shikamaru's keen intellect or Chouji's brute strength,) she couldn't help but feel a creeping self-doubt she tried to ignore with sheer bravado. Ino was a great supporter of the philosophy that if you ignored something, eventually it would go away or work itself out.

Biting her lip, she brushed the tears away with an angry gesture. Damn it. Tears were useless, and she wasn't so weak as to let others see her cry. Emotions made one vulnerable---just look how easily she could pick them out of other people's minds! Knowing how easy it was, she would never expose herself like that. And here came Hinata, with those all-seeing eyes of hers. The Hyuuga heiress was so sensitive to others that Ino wondered if she might not have a trace of telepathy herself. Hinata was probably just good at deducing the mood of others around her. With her shy nature, she'd had to learn it as a defense mechanism to survive in her brutally judgmental family. Funny, but Ino had never thought that they might have that in common. Not the harsh family---but developing intuition as a way of dealing with others and keeping them at bay, each too wary of how those others might negatively affect them.

But Hinata was yet another classmate whose innate abilities---the Byakugan---left Ino feeling terribly inadequate, and she wasn't about to let Hinata see how that affected her. Pasting on a bright smile---a mask that was so easy to slip into that it had become second nature---she waved airily and quickly steered the conversation into something she could control and _was_ good at: Gossip.

"Hi, Hinata! I was just seeing Shika and Chouji and Asuma-sensei off. They're going with Sakura to see if they can trace any sign of that rebel ANBU nin we were chasing last week. There's rumors he's fled to---" She paused, suddenly realizing that maybe it wasn't the best idea to share such privileged information. She really did have to work on her tongue, damn it. But she couldn't think of anything else right now that would distract the pretty, silver-eyed girl. Although, Ino wished she would cut her dark hair short again. The style had been adorably cute. Ah! Pay dirt!

"Hinata-chan, have you thought of cutting your hair? It's getting so long---"

"Um…" Hinata blushed, though Ino didn't know if it was because of her babbling or the fact that Hinata had to interrupt it. "I'm sorry, Ino-chan, but I was sent by…I mean, Shizune-san asked me to find you. Tsunade---the Hokage, would like to see you. Your father, too."

"My father?" Ino blinked. Her look must have been too revealing, for Hinata actually reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"Yes, Ino-chan. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off---I'm sure it will be all right---I mean…"

Quickly regaining her composure, Ino shrugged indifferently even as her mind spun a mile a minute, wondering what she had done wrong to warrant both her father and her teacher wanting to see her. "I'm not worried, Hinata! I'm sure it's nothing! Well, I better get going. It's not good to keep the Fifth waiting!"

She even managed a blinding smile as she skipped off. She wondered if it worked and actually fooled the girl, for Hinata looked distinctly troubled as she watched her leave.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

"Ino, there's a reason we did not send you out with your team today, and it's not just that Sakura could use more field experience working with other teams. A medic-nin has to be adaptable and learn to work with many different kinds of people, because they are so rare when compared to offensive ninja."

Tsunade's hazel eyes were grave as she paused. Ino could feel her weighing her next words, and wondered what that might mean. Her eyes flicked to her father, but he was impassive, his manner all business. This was a jonin to chunin, not father to daughter, just as it had to be in the Hokage's office.

"Even more unique are your own abilities, the telepathic genjutsu you have inherited from your clan. The Yamanaka bloodline has served Konoha for generations, often in ways others will never know." Tsunade paused again, sharing a look with her father, who nodded slightly. He was about to speak, but Ino cut him off, her shoulders tensing. She wasn't an idiot, she knew damn well where this was going. She fought the sudden sick sensation in her stomach, quelling the icy trickle of fear behind an emotionless mask worthy of any ANBU operative.

Her blue eyes hardened as she interrupted abruptly, "You mean, as a spy."

"I told you she's not as immature as you think her," Inoichi said, with a proud wink that did nothing to make Ino feel better. The Hokage thought her immature?

"Well, you have to admit that this is a delicate situation---" Tsunade began, surprisingly tactful for one so blunt.

Inoichi snorted. "It's a simple mission---well, comparatively." He fixed his daughter with a hard look. "You'll eventually be asked to do more dangerous things than simply going off alone to spy on the suspicious activities of a small, isolated village on the edge of Fire Country. It's still on home soil, after all. Well, at least, in territory loyal to us. And there will be missions---in the future---that will take you to places, alone, that I would not be willing to send my only child if I didn't have faith in her abilities---no matter how much she tries to avoid using them."

Ino flinched.

Tsunade sighed. "I know you've tried hard to hone your other skills, Ino, both in taijutsu and ninjutsu, but what Konoha needs is what only _you_, as a Yamanaka, can provide. I know you have worked hard with Shikamaru and Chouji to perfect your team's cooperative specialties, and there is a good reason we always send the Nara and Akimichi clans with a Yamanaka if one's available. But you need to learn to work on your own, for there will be many times we will have to ask you to do so---"

"And now's a perfect time for you to go on your first solo mission. An easy test of your abilities, Ino, and an easy introduction into what will be a lot harder as time goes on and you develop your bloodline chakra. I'm hoping this mission will impress on you just how important your personal studies are. You're not as diligent in studying our family's chakra seals as you could be."

Ino took her father's pointed reproof with no expression. Tsunade cleared her throat. "Well, then, since Team 10 is off on their own mission and will be gone for several weeks, I think now's the perfect time to explain just what it is we expect from you, and what information we are hoping you can pick up. If you leave tonight, you can be in Kotonashi in a few days…"

ooOOooOOooOOoo

This place was boring.

Deidara curled his lip in disdain. The village wasn't even worth destroying, as the unimaginative people who lived here would just slap the same plain, utilitarian buildings back up. How could any artist, even one of such obscure repute as Kobayashi Iwao, live _here?_ There was nothing to inspire one. Maybe that was why Iwao-san was such a hermit.

Maybe the rumors were wrong, and the great painter didn't live in Kotonashi. Deidara was really only trying to kill time while Master Sasori went off to contact some of his jutsu-controlled spies in Sunagakure. He wished to see if Kobayashi Iwao was as great in person as some of his renowned interpretations, and since Deidara was in the general neighborhood, he had let his idle curiosity lead him to this ugly, uninspiring dump.

Kotonashi could have stood for a postcard description of middle-class Fire Country living. It was too neat and tidy. The wooden buildings lining the main street were as alike to one another as to have been cloned. Only their signs differed, or the people hanging out of them. Even the rice fields adjoining the village were laid out in precise formation, as if an engineer had designed the village, and not the haphazard growth surrounding a minor trading post.

Kotonashi had only gained importance once an uneasy peace had been struck between the five Great Villages. The obscure trading post had grown as caravans started using the old northeastern road again, instead of going the long way around by sea. It was actually a good place for a missing nin, as there were so many strangers passing through and the locals knew how to keep their mouths shut. Not that any of these pathetic peasants would know an Akatsuki, even without the cloak and conical hat Leader insisted they all wear to hide their identities. This place wasn't big enough to boast a ninja garrison, let alone anyone who might recognize him from the Bingo Book.

Deidara sighed. It was probably true that Kotonashi didn't boast Iwao-san either. Why would an artist of his talent bother? _He_ certainly wouldn't, and he couldn't understand why another artist would, even one as secretive and eccentric as Iwao-san.

Well, he might as well get something to eat. No matter how plain the buildings, the smells wafting from the yatai beside him were tantalizing. His stomach growled, reminding him it had been a long time since breakfast. Master Sasori often complained about how often he needed to eat, but Deidara's formidable chakra required quite a bit of sustenance. He wasn't made of wood, like the grumpy puppet-master. Slipping into line, he paid for a bowl of yakisoba, and took his meal over to a bench outside the shop nearest the food cart to eat. The slight overhang of the shop's upper story kept him in shadow, and thus he was in the perfect position to see _her_ but not have her see him.

_Her_---the girl. The leaf-nin from Konoha. He couldn't believe it. He even had to look around, to see if he was just seeing things, for there she suddenly was, ducking out of a building across the street. Glancing up at the sign, which divulged it was an inn, he thought it might actually be possible.

That long ponytail of cornsilk hair was certainly unmistakable, as were the wide blue eyes and uncertain pause, as if she were trying to decide where to go. Making up her mind, he watched as she disappeared among the dark-haired throng in the street. She really was short, but quick. He admired how she easily wormed her way through the crowd, finally going into some shop further up on his side of the street.

Abandoning his uneaten dinner, Deidara silently followed, his curiosity piqued. He wondered what she was doing here, in the middle of nowhere, and so far from her hidden village. He wondered if she were alone---and paused in the middle of the sidewalk to take a quick scan of the chakra in the village. He ignored the curses of the people who had to go around him---really, it was just the buzzing of annoying gnats. Satisfied that there was no one else here but him and her, he smiled.

It seemed as if this place wouldn't be so boring after all…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: I had fun with this chapter, smirk. (Fate)_

**Chapter Three**

Riffling through the rack, Ino pulled out a sleek pink shirt and stared at it critically. It had a nice cut, but the color was dreadful. It reminded her of a certain kunoichi's cotton-candy hair. Ugh. Pink really wasn't her color, anyway. Putting it back, she kept looking.

_*Stupid Sakura. Stupid mission.*_ She hadn't asked to be here, but she was supposed to be fitting in, so she might as well shop. She was hoping Kotonashi might have something not seen yet in Konoha. It was a trading post, after all, if only a minor one. But it seemed as if there wasn't anything---oh, wait, this one might have some potential.

Pulling the sleeveless, light blue tank from the rack, Ino held it up to herself. Biting her lip, she wondered if it was too plain. But for casual wear, with a cute pair of jeans, maybe her white half-sweater and some funky sandals, she could pull it off. The simple cotton V-neck might be a little low-cut---she did try to keep her clothes hinting, and not so glaringly obvious, after all. She should probably keep looking---

"You should get it, un."

Looking up in surprise, Ino saw a young man---a rather good-looking young man, actually---nonchalantly leaning against the next rack. Dressed in a high-collared, red-patterned black trench coat negligently thrown open to show a glimpse of a black mesh shirt and grey-blue pants, his thick gold bangs obscured half of his face. He gave her an appraising look, his eyes slowly wandering up her frame and pointedly stopping on the blue shirt she still held up to her chest before catching her gaze again.

"Matches your eyes, yeah."

Ino blushed. She was used to compliments, actually, but not from someone so…direct…in his admiration. "Oh, um, thank you, uh…"

"Deidara," he said, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. Gods, a man shouldn't have lips like that, he really shouldn't. And those lashes---any girl would kill to have those lashes. The kohl he wore only emphasized the almond shape of his eyes, which were blue, actually---a smoky, dark blue. Or, at least, the one she could see was. The other was covered by the thick sweep of his bangs. He wore his hair long, a simple topknot and headband tying the rest back over his shoulders. He was blond, like her, but his was the rich color of true gold, not pale like hers.

"Ino," she replied, somewhat breathlessly. Gods, he was hot, in that careless, don't-give-a-damn way. Maybe this stupid mission wouldn't be so bad after all.

"So…are you going to buy it? Because I'd like to see you in it, un." He smiled at her, and Ino felt her confidence rising. _This_ was a game she well knew how to play.

"Perhaps," she said coyly. She held it up, pretending to study the shirt critically. "It _is_ a nice color. And you did say it matched my eyes." She tilted a flirtatious look back at him, deliberately narrowing those same eyes. The maneuver had worked well for her in the past.

His reaction wasn't quite what she expected. For a moment, he looked almost disgusted, and she blinked. The look was gone, though, so quickly she might have imagined it, and he only smiled lazily. He was rather good at that whole slow, sensual smile thing. "You'll buy it, yeah. And then you'll join me for dinner, hmm?"

Wow. He rather had that whole arrogantly-domineering thing down, too. Ino actually liked it. She was more used to bossing around the men---boys---around her. Still, it was never good to let a man think he had the upper hand. So she gave him a slow smile in return. "Perhaps. I am a little hungry."

Ino was famished, actually, but it would never do to let _him_ know that. Hot girls ordered salad, not steak. She could eat a whole cow right now, but a salad would be better for her diet. She smiled to reassure him that she was willing to join him for dinner, and went and paid for the shirt. Although he didn't move from his negligent pose against the clothes rack, she was rather conscious of his eyes on her. She kept the self-conscious blush down by tossing her head like she hadn't a care in the world. She gave the clerk an apologetic smile when she fumbled the coins out of her pouch, nearly dropping a few as she read the woman's errant thoughts about young fools in heat. She had to control her shields better, damn it.

Taking her bagged purchase, Ino turned back around with an airy smile, purposely trying to ignore the bitter old maid's sour look as Deidara came to join her at the door. He courteously let her go out ahead of him, and her heart lightened. Nothing could come of this evening but a bit of idle flirting, but gods, she could certainly use the distraction. Reading the clerk's idle thoughts had reminded Ino of just why she didn't want to be on this stupid mission in the first place. She could take this night off, at least, to just be an ordinary girl who had met a hot guy who was interested in her. She didn't have to be a Yamanaka mind-spy _all_ the time, damn it.

"So…where are we going?" She looked up at Deidara through lowered lashes, determined to have some fun. He was half-a-head taller than her, and she liked that. So many of the guys in her village were still her own height or only a few inches above it. But those were just boys. This guy wasn't a boy, by any measure. He wasn't old either, which would have just been downright creepy---although, Ino had had plenty of older men interested in her. She was a good-looking blonde, after all, who knew how to keep her herself fit and her hair perfect. But their thoughts were too…embarrassing, actually. Funny, but she couldn't read this guy---his thoughts were oddly self-contained, almost as if he were shielded. She liked that, actually. It was…restful…being around him.

Deidara shrugged. "I don't know this place that well, un. Just arrived, yeah."

"You're from out of town?" Ino queried, trying to start a topic. Most people in Kotonashi were.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, and she didn't press. She wasn't about to offer her own history, after all. This night was just for fun, and she wasn't going to waste her time asking him questions she wasn't willing to answer herself.

"I'm not from around here, either," she admitted with a warm smile and a slight tilt of her head in his direction as she teased lightly, "We have that in common, yeah."

His eye narrowed, as if he was deciding whether or not to take offense.

"Hey! Don't be so serious!" she admonished, her blue eyes looking up into his with warm reassurance as she deliberately nudged him with her shoulder. Ino hated to see in others what she so often felt herself. "It's just in fun. You shouldn't be so self-conscious. I rather like the way you speak. It's different---distinctive."

"Self-conscious?" He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, as if the thought was foreign and somehow novel.

"Or not," she shrugged, casting an apologetic look behind them as a man grumbled about them being in the way. "We should probably keep walking."

"What? Oh, yeah." He absently started forward, and Ino had to stop him from nearly running over a little kid who darted out of the doorway just in front of them. Deidara blinked, looking incredulous, as she waved at the kid, who blurted a half-heard apology even as he kept going.

"No problem! Just watch where you're going, okay?" she called after him, turning back to smile at Deidara, who had that baffled look on his face again. She couldn't help giggling at it. He really was absent-minded, wasn't he? It was rather cute. He seemed so intense, but this little quirk made him more human and approachable.

She nodded toward the door the boy had just come out of as the grouchy man behind them pointedly went around with a glare. "Maybe we should just go in here before we get run over. It looks kind of cute, don't you think? I like the flowers. Adds a sweet touch, doesn't it?"

Tugging on his upper arm, she pulled him after her. Looking amused, he let her lead him inside.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Deidara didn't get it. This girl couldn't be as shallow and weak as she seemed, could she? He was completely baffled as to how such a flighty flirt could have survived his beautiful masterpiece. Such a trusting little innocent should never have escaped his art, and he still had no idea how she had. He might have said it was pure, dumb luck---if he believed in such a ludicrous notion. Now chance, yes, he believed in chance, and whim, personal whim, not that of some ephemeral idea of fate or whatever other fools called circumstance. But one made their own destiny out of the skills they had, (or the stupid mistakes they made,) and either learned from them or didn't. But this girl…

She was artlessly beautiful. He had seen the incredible potential of that beauty from afar, had been taken with it enough to expend some of his own creative energy on it. He had even composed the perfect masterpiece to claim that beauty for his own in the fleeting transience of true artistic expression. But no matter how perfect her face or the soft lines of a body much too seductive for one so innocent, he couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that she was just so seemingly _clueless_.

There had to be more to her than what she was showing him. She was a ninja, for crying out loud. She had made chunin, so that meant she had to have some talent or skill that he hadn't seen yet. She was certainly a fast runner, and had hit that damn tree below him with her tagged kunai, but it took more than physical prowess to pass the Chunin Exams. At least, it had in his old village. He didn't think the Leaf's standards had fallen _that_ damn low.

She kept babbling while he was lost in thought, seemingly unaware of his intense scrutiny. Although, now that he looked for it, she was blushing a bit, and wouldn't quite meet his eyes. Her hands, too, were a dead give-away, plucking so nervously at the napkin on the side of her plate. She had barely eaten a bite, and he didn't know if she was just picky or he just made her that nervous.

Now, wasn't _that_ a satisfying thought. Settling back against his chair, Deidara picked up his tea and watched the play of light across its golden surface as he swirled it gently. He took a negligent sip and came to a decision. This was getting him nowhere, and it was more than time he took matters into his own hands. Leaning forward, he put his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his palm as he fixed her blue eyes with his.

"Hey, why don't you and me get out of here, hmm? Go some place else, some place I can get to know you better, yeah."

Subtlety had never been his strong suit.

Her eyes---well, the one he could see, since the other was mostly covered by the feathering spill of her long bangs---widened, and for a second, she looked frightened. He found that kind of sexy, all the more so since it was a real reaction, and not just another pretense.

The revealing expression was gone though, almost as quickly as it had come, and she was suddenly wagging a finger at him, those pouty, pink lips showing just how sexy a pout they could form as she said mock-sternly, "Now, now, Deidara-kun, what kind of girl do you take me for?"

That was exactly what he was determined to find out.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

"C'mon, un," he said, shoving his chair back and standing up. Fishing a wad of bills out of his pocket, he negligently threw them down on the table and held out his hand. Ino stared at it, startled by the mouth on his palm that grinned up at her. A tongue waggled at her before licking its---uh---lips.

She blinked.

Deidara's expression suddenly became no expression, and he pulled back his hand, his fingers folding over to hide his palm. He carelessly shrugged, turning his head away so that she could only see the jagged fall of his ruddy bangs.

Ino's eyes softened.

Slipping out of her chair, Ino went around the table and lightly touched his arm. His head turned back towards her, but she still couldn't see his face behind all that hair. Her fingers gently brushed his wrist, trailing down his palm and slipping inside his curled fist to cup his palm.

Not wanting to make more of the gesture, and intuitive enough to know his touchy male pride would be all mixed up in it, she put a light note in her voice as she coaxed, "Okay, Deidara, let's go explore!"

ooOOooOOooOOoo

He let her drag him out of the restaurant, his eyes on their joined hands. She didn't seem to even notice how the simple gesture affected him, and she was filling the poignant silence with idle chatter, as if giving him time to recover himself.

The idea of such thoughtful consideration was so startling to him that he couldn't wrap his brain around it, or the strange feelings it evoked within him. He wasn't one for much self-examination, so he finally gave it up with an uneasy shrug. Ino had hauled him down the street by then, threading their way past all the slower people, and he almost plowed into her when she suddenly stopped. He caught himself barely in time to avoid knocking her over with his heavier weight, and frowned irritably. Whether it was from his distraction or her abrupt pause, he didn't know.

"Wow! That isn't what I think it is, is it?"

He stared over at the shop window as she put her free hand on the glass, almost pressing her nose against it so that the reflected glare of the street lights wouldn't interfere. He didn't get the appeal---it was just a bunch of flowers arranged in various displays. There was nothing special about any of them, just the same, typically boring baskets and vases he had seen in other shops. There was even a stupid bear with a bunch of freakishly cheerful balloons tied to its fuzzy paw. He glared at it, even as she determinedly pulled him inside the god-awful place. Leave it to a girl to want to go into a flower shop---he bet she'd want him to buy her something trite like a red rose or some stuffed atrocity.

But she ignored all the inane displays set out to entice the artistically clueless, marching straight to the counter that separated the front of the shop from the back. Half of it was covered by a variety of potted plants and bundled flowers, and she bent over one with obvious delight even as a short, fat, balding man in a dirty apron appeared.

"Excuse me, but isn't that a quinquennial cereus repandus?"

Taken aback by the enthusiasm in Ino's voice, Deidara glanced at the pokey-looking plant even as the man smiled smugly and simpered, "Why, yes, it is. You know it?"

"Who doesn't?" Ino demanded, though, _hello, _one was standing right there beside her. Deidara didn't see what was so special about the ugly plant. It wasn't even a flower, just a single, prickly-looking blob in a bowl of dirt. Certainly nothing to get excited over, though Ino was positively hanging on every word as the bald little fat man described in minute detail how he had gotten, potted, grown and tended the little flower in the ridiculous hope that it would win at the Kotanashi Garden Club's Annual Spring Fair.

Deidara was about to die of sheer ennui. Ino was all but gushing in her praise of the man's accomplishment, reassuring him that she was sure it would take first prize. Deidara was rather annoyed that she was paying more attention to a damn plant than she was to him, and demanded impatiently, "What's so great about it, hmm? It hasn't even bloomed, un."

Two pairs of incredulous eyes turned on him, and Deidara looked back with cool disdain. Ino's eyes softened, and she said gently, "But, you see, that's what _is_ so great about it. The quinquennial cereus blooms only once every five years."

She touched the pot with reverent fingers, and her voice held the same fervency as his could when speaking of his art. The recognition of that passion surprised him, and he actually _listened_ as she explained softly, "A flower bud like the quinquennial cereus only has the potential for beauty. One cares for it, and nurtures it, hoping that it will blossom into that perfect symmetry of color and scent that is what makes a single flower truly beautiful and unique all by itself. One doesn't know, really, if all his hard work over the last five years will pay off in that one, single night when the cereus blooms. The life of the quinquennial is so transient and fleeting, lasting only for a few hours before dying, that only the truly dedicated would even bother to try. It is only in that one, single instant when the flower unfolds will he know if all his time and effort were wasted."

The little bald man smiled with benign indulgence as Deidara stared at the ugly little plant with dawning respect. His voice was low as he said slowly, "So its true glory only lasts for that one, single, fleeting moment? And the florist doesn't know until that instant if it will blossom into beauty or utter ignominy?"

Ino shrugged, almost careless in her reply, though her eyes spoke different, "It's all in the art of flower-growing, really. One won't know until then."

"Art, un." He stared at the pot, admitting with grudging surprise, "I never looked at it that way before, yeah."

Ino smiled. "If you think about it, art---or maybe, I should say, beauty---is all around us. You can find it in the most unlikely places."

She blushed, looking away, and then suddenly, absurdly, giggled. "Like a _great_ pair of shoes to go along with the cute new shirt you just bought." She patted her big purse, where she had stashed her purchase, and gave him a wink.

It was Deidara's turn to look incredulous, and her brow knit in puzzlement. "What?"

"You're…not what I ever expected," he said, still baffled by the enigma she represented to him. She could be so _real_ one moment, and so vapid the next. He truly didn't get it, and that vexed him no end. For he never bothered trying to understand other people---hell, it had never occurred to him to even care to. But she…

"You're not what I expected, either," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. Letting go of his hand, she skipped over to a bunch of dyed chrysanthemums and fell to talking with the shopkeeper about the techniques he used. Folding his arms, Deidara watched her for a while but soon grew bored with the conversation, which he had no interest in, and wandered idly around the small shop. He couldn't name half the damn flowers, though it was easy to recognize the familiar ones: roses, daises, some type of dumb fern. An ugly, busy-looking thing he couldn't remember the name of, and lilies in various shades.

He paused, his gaze drawn to the scarlet lilies that lay among the others in a tube of water. His eyes cut to the girl, who was still talking animatedly with the dumpy little florist, her hands fluttering all around as she airily demonstrated something. A smile hovered over Deidara's mouth, a cruel smile, and his eyes glittered as he plucked a single, blood-red lily out of the tub. Water dripped from the bottom of the long stem, making soft splats on the ground like the patter of blood.

Lazily fishing a few ryou out of his pocket, he handed them to the surprised florist even as he casually threw an arm over Ino's shoulders to get her attention. She looked up at him, surprised at his abrupt intrusion, and he whispered huskily, "Close your eyes, yeah."

Giving him an uncertain look, she did as he bade. What a trusting little innocent she was. He felt a delicious stab of anticipation as he gently drew the soft petals of the flower down along her cheek. A pale blush stole across her creamy skin, and she breathed in the scent. Her knitted brow cleared as she recognized it, and he gently laid the flower in her palm, curling her fingers around it before letting go. She smiled, a sweet smile, as she slowly opened her eyes.

And froze.

"What's the matter, hmm?" Deidara breathed into her ear, trying to pretend dismay and failing miserably. He wondered if she even noticed.

"Ah…" She bit her lip, and turned stricken eyes up to him, trying valiantly to hide the flash of fear with a weak laugh and airy wave as she nervously moved away from him. "Eh, heh, um, you just caught me by surprise is all."

"Don't you like lilies?" he goaded, _quite_ delighted with her reaction. Finally, something real he could grab on to! She _did_ remember him and his art. Not that the experience could ever be forgotten by anyone…

OoOOooOOooOOoo

"I like lilies," Ino said staunchly, though her flat voice lacked conviction. She hid a shiver. '_Just not red ones. At least, not anymore.' _

He wouldn't know that, though, and it would be rude to ruin what was, after all, a rather sweet gesture. Trying to make up for it, Ino leaned up and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek. His brows went up and he looked surprised.

"Thank you, Deidara-kun. That was really sweet." She deliberately buried her nose in the lily, trying to hide her blush. It wasn't like she went around kissing guys all the damn time. She really liked him, though. For all his strange silences and careless attitude, he had a refreshing honesty about him, even if it could be a little too direct.

Like now, when he stared at her with a heated look beneath lowered lids that made her heart start fluttering inside her chest. Tingles raced across her skin, raising goose-bumps in their wake as he reached over and took the flower from her hand. Her eyes dropped to the flower as he neatly pinched the stem a few inches below the base. She watched in fascination, her breath catching, as he pushed the small, blonde wisps back behind her left ear, gently threading the lily among the silky tendrils.

"Suits you, un," he said, his smile almost dreamy. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss just above the flower, on the sensitive skin of her temple. The feel of his warm lips lingered even after he leaned back. Ino blushed, and he smirked.

"Let's go, yeah," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Okay," Ino agreed, trying to ignore the tickling sensation as the mouth in the center of his palm nibbled lightly on her skin. She turned to wave goodbye to Masuo-san, but jumped when a warm, wet tongue lightly laved the same spot. She almost dropped Deidara's hand in her surprise, but his fingers tightened on hers.

He met her wide eyes with a wicked look, and negligently flipped two fingers at the amused florist as they left the shop. Ino wondered just where he was taking her. He walked so determinedly, sauntering down the middle of the sidewalk with her in tow. She had to quicken her steps to keep up with his longer stride, and they kept bumping into people. Deidara ignored them, leaving Ino to toss chagrinned looks in their wake.

"Hey!" She tried to catch his attention, and she had to forcefully grab his sleeve with her free hand before he would look down at her. Slightly put out by his arrogant behavior, she scolded breathlessly, "Can you slow it down some? I'm about out of breath here!"

He shrugged. It was probably the only apology she was going to get. Ino didn't know if she should be miffed by that or not, but he did shorten his stride, so she chose to ignore it. At least his hand had stopped kissing hers. The absurdity of that thought made her want to giggle and shiver all at the same time. "Where are we going?"

"My hotel room, yeah," he said that so nonchalantly, not even looking at her but at the on-coming traffic as they paused before crossing the street.

"Your _what?" _Ino stopped dead in her tracks, jerking her hand free of his.

He turned, his eyes narrowing. "What's wrong?"

"I can't go to your _room_," she said, horrified that he would even think she would.

"Why not, un?" He folded his arms over his chest, oblivious of all the people who had to go around them. Ino was too agitated to notice them, either.

"What kind of girl do you take me for?" she demanded, furious that he would even consider it. The jerk had just ruined a perfectly nice evening, and all because he assumed she was some stupid bimbo willing to go along with whatever he wanted. She was incredibly disappointed. She'd really started liking this guy, even with all his goofy silences and weird expressions. And just like every other guy, he had to go and ruin it by thinking with the wrong head.

"What's the big deal, hmm? I just want to go somewhere private so we can talk, yeah." The hot look in his eyes said different. The leisurely glance down to linger too long on her breasts sure didn't help. He even took a step closer, as if thinking she would fall for that Tarzan tactic of trying to coax her with his superior male self. Ino wasn't an idiot. She couldn't believe he actually thought she would buy that stupid line. Two could play this game, though.

Pasting a vapid look on her face, Ino said brightly, "Oh! Why didn't you just say so! I know the perfect place we can go and _talk_."

He gave her a wary look, but let her grab his hand and march him on down the street. Ino kept up a rapid-fire, one-sided babbling bonanza calculated to throw him off balance. It had worked well for her in the past, especially with Asuma-sensei and her teammates. "I am _so_ glad you want us to get to know each other better, Deidara-kun! Most guys, I find, don't even want to try and get to know a girl. They really just got a one-track mind, y'know? And there's _so_ _much_ you don't even _know_ about me, so much I could _tell_ you! Like, would you believe that my favorite color is purple? Well, I mean, I _am_ wearing a purple shirt, so maybe you could guess. Though I could have just put on any old thing this morning, for all you know, right? So I guess it's great that you want to get to know _everything_ about me.

"Like how lousy a cook I am, or what kind of shampoo I use. I'll tell you a secret, I actually use a special horse shampoo to help make my hair grow. Though you can't leave it in too long, or it will strip away vital nutrients. And then where would I be? _Split_-end city! _That's_ where! That's why I have to be careful about what conditioner I use, to counteract the harshness of the mane and tail shampoo. I really like the new Pearl product line, how about you? It makes my hair _so_ soft and shiny! I don't use their soap, though, it can _really_ clog the pores…"

His eyes had glazed over long before they reached their final destination. Several of Kotonashi's merchants had grown fat on the new trade passing through their town and had used some of their new-found wealth to build an ugly fountain in the middle of the one square the town boasted. They hadn't paid for its upkeep, though, and the town council was still arguing over whose responsibility it was. In the meantime, the fountain was left to wind and weather, and the occasional use by some drunk as a public bathroom. Litter and leaves filled the murky brown water, which stank to high heaven.

Some of that new-won wealth was what Ino was supposed to be investigating while she was here, and she found it quite ironic that her mission debriefing had given her the perfect way to deal with this jerk.

"You know, you should only wash your hair every other day, so as not to destroy all the essential oils. But I think you should, at least, take a _bath _every day."

It was almost too easy. He hadn't even noticed the fountain, though he finally realized that they had stopped after she dropped his hand. Those hands were now trying to come around her, and he looked like he was about to try and kiss her, the jerk. Probably hoping it would shut her up. She put a light hand on his chest, and ignored the warm beat beneath her palm. She gave him a coy look.

"I'm so glad we had this chance to _talk_, Deidara-kun. We should really do it again some time!"

Hooking a neat foot behind his knee to throw him off balance, Ino smiled sweetly as she pushed him over. He went down with a surprised yell and a satisfying splash.

"Or not," she reneged.

Plucking the stupid flower from her hair, she tossed it in after him.

"Jerk," she muttered, stomping off with her head held high.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Deidara sputtered angrily as he shoved the sopping hair out of his eyes. He immediately removed the scope over his left eye, afraid it had been damaged by the ignominious dunking. He ran his fingers over the buttons, testing for damage, and was relieved when it answered him, though he glared when it took his picture. Like he needed any reminder of the utter humiliation he had just suffered.

His fists tightened, the teeth on his palms grinding loud enough for others to hear. The lily, somewhat soggy, floated by and he glared at it hard enough that it should have burst into flames. He raised his eyes to where the girl had disappeared, and his look was dark enough that the few people who had stopped to laugh at him suddenly found reasons to leave, and quickly.

He was going to kill that crazy bitch!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: Been a while, hasn't it? Thanks for your patience, and remember, I'm a shameless review-slut. I'll take any I can get. =P _

**Chapter Four**

"Ugh."

Ino rolled over in bed and glared at the empty quart of chocolate ice cream that mocked her from the nightstand. The plastic spoon was still stuck in the carton. Like she needed any more reminder of her foolishness last night than the sour, over-stuffed feeling she'd just woken up with.

It was all _his_ fault, of course. She wouldn't have needed to console herself with a whole quart of ice cream if he hadn't been such a jerk. And she wouldn't have been so hungry if she hadn't been trying to impress that same jerk by only ordering a stupid salad for dinner.

Gods, she hated mornings.

A shower helped improve her mood - as did throwing away the evidence of last night's indulgence. Her hair was behaving today, so she left it out of its normal ponytail and used four pretty little butterfly barrettes to pull it back off her face. The style made her look younger than she was, but that might not be such a bad thing, since she intended to start making inquiries today regarding her mission. Normally, she liked to look older, but the whole fresh-faced, innocent look wouldn't hurt her cause.

Pulling on some cute tan capris and her funky black sandals, she debated what shirt to throw on. Her eyes kept straying to the shopping bag she'd tossed on the chair last night. She was determined never to wear that stupid tank, since it would forever remind her of that stupid jerk, Deidara.

But that was nonsense. She'd selected the shirt before she met Deidara. And it didn't matter who pointed out how well it matched her eyes - if it even did. It wasn't as if _his_ judgment was anything great to go by. Look just how well he had judged her, the horny creep!

Yanking the sleeveless tank top from the bag, Ino pulled it on and went into the bathroom to see for herself. Wow. It really _did_ match her eyes. It was the perfect shade of powder blue. And she had the perfect white sweater to go with it in order to pull the whole innocent look off, even with the tank top's plunging neckline. She just needed a cute charm bracelet - there.

Mood much improved by what she saw in the mirror, Ino blew it a fond kiss before grabbing her purse - not the big one, but the small, black shoulder-bag - and keys and leaving the room. Locking the door, her thoughts turned inward, going over ways she might start investigating some of the suspicious activities of the merchants of Kotonashi. Some of them were getting a little _too_ rich off the legitimate trade now passing through their town. Old Big Boobs Tsunade was certain there was some black market activity going on, and she wanted to know if it was just the normal smuggling or something bigger. It was easier to nip these things in the bud rather than wait until they became too big a problem to handle easily - or quietly.

Ino smirked. She wondered if the Fire Daimyo had any idea just how seriously Konohagakure took its policing duties. Besides, there was the not inconsiderable prospect of earning some additional income for the ninja village. It wasn't only the daimyo who could hire them. So long as it was for a legitimate - or worthy enough - reason. The Fifth saw no problem in taking advantage of an opportunity, rather than passing it up and maybe letting one of the other hidden villages profit by their stupidity. The gods knew there were plenty of ninja willing to take on any task, so long as they got paid for it in cold, hard cash.

The small, dark lobby was deserted. Pushing the front door open, Ino squinted against the brilliant light that dazzled her eyes. Darn it, she'd left her sunglasses back in the room. Blinking, she raised a defensive hand to shield her eyes from the flood of sunlight as she gingerly stepped outside.

"Morning, un."

Ino froze. Slowly turning her head to the right, her eyes widened to see Deidara propped against the side of the building, as if he'd been waiting for her. He straightened up as she watched in stunned disbelief, her mouth hung open like a dumb fish.

A thousand and one errant thoughts whirled through her mind. He looked even better than he had last night - though she wondered how he had gotten his stupid trench coat cleaned and dried already. The look in his smoldering blue eye sent alarm bells off in her skull even as her heart started thumping over just how damn _cute_ he was. Not to mention _tall_. While not the tallest guy she knew, he sure knew how to loom up over a girl and make her feel all small and feminine. She felt almost giddy, and that was so stupidly unlike her that it knocked her right back to her senses.

Snapping her mouth shut, Ino glared. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked up at him and demanded angrily, "What do _you_ want?"

"You," he said huskily, and her world flipped upside down.

ooOOOoo

"PUT ME DOWN YOU STUPID JERK!"

Deidara winced. That damn girl had some good lungs. Ow! She also had a mean right hook. Even hanging upside down slung over his shoulder, she almost managed to get his kidneys.

Palming a kunai, he held it against her exposed midriff, where her blue shirt had ridden up, to show he wasn't playing around. "Quiet, un, or I'll make sure you stay quiet. Permanently."

She did; at least long enough for him to slip inside the dark alley beside the inn, and then she erupted into a vicious wild cat. A wild cat with wicked claws - he got a scratch down one cheek for his pains, and barely missed the kunai she slipped from her back pocket. Dropping his, he managed to twist the blade out of her hand by force alone. That knee to the groin he barely avoided was really a dirty move, and her fist was downright nasty when it fetched him one right in the abdomen.

She was a dirty fighter, but he was dirtier. He also had a whole hell of a lot more practice. He was also a good fifty pounds heavier and a great deal faster, and it wasn't long before he got the upper hand. She realized it almost as soon as he did, and her eyes widened in fear even as he smiled knowingly. She tried to run then, abandoning her purse and flinging several senbon at him. He dodged them easily, and caught her by the back of her white sweater. It tore with a loud, ripping sound, and she slipped free of it, intent on making a break for the promised freedom at the end of the alley.

Her eyes lit up with hope - the way was free and clear. But he managed to get in front of her, and she crashed headlong into him with a muffled cry that died as his seeking fingers closed in on the pulse-point at the side of her neck. She hissed in protest, calling him a bad word even as she sagged against him, her beautiful blue eyes rolling up as her thick lashes fluttered closed.

Deidara grinned. Did she just call him a fucking shithead? My, my, wasn't that quite a change from the Little Miss Goody-Goody she'd played last night. His grin died as he glanced sharply up the alley. Their brief little scuffle hadn't gone completely unnoticed, and he had to get them out of here before someone came to investigate.

Pulling a bird from his pocket, he released his chakra into the enlarging gyrfalcon even as it started scrambling up the side of the building. He jumped, grasping the bird's shoulder with one hand, the limp girl tucked under the other. Once on the roof, he settled them more squarely on the gyrfalcon's back. Expanding its wings, it took off for the deep forest beyond the village.

ooOOOoo

"Ugh."

Gods, she hated mornings. Blearily eying at her surroundings, Ino didn't know if it was the strangeness of them or the sudden lightheadedness that had her rubbing her temples as she closed her eyes. She tried to remember what the hell had just happened, and why the heck she was in a _cave_, of all places.

"You're up, yeah."

Ino froze, memory flooding back with one horrific headache.

"Ow."

He stared at her, as if surprised by her complaint.

She glared back, wincing slightly as her temples pounded. "What'd you do, hit me with a frickin' club? My head hurts."

He kept staring at her.

She kept glaring, thought better of bitching at him, but was still angry enough to spit nails. Folding her arms over her chest and trying to ignore the fear that shivered down her spine, she spat with sheer stupid bravado, "So what is this? Your lousy attempt at getting me away for a romantic weekend?"

She pointedly sneered at the dirty cave around them.

For a long moment, he only stared at her as if she'd completely lost her mind. Then, throwing his head back so that his golden hair spilled over his shoulders, he laughed out loud.

Ino's eyes widened. With his hair back, his headband was fully exposed, and the metal of a hitai-ate gleamed at her in the faint spill of daylight from the mouth of the small cave. The jagged line deliberately slashed through Iwakagure's dual-squared symbol was perfectly plain to see, and her stomach dropped several feet into her funky black sandals as she recognized that this crazy lunatic was not only crazy, and a lunatic, but he was a missing-nin. A renegade from Stone, if not a wanted criminal.

She was forming the Shintenshen no Jutsu before he even stopped laughing. Noticing her hand gestures, he dropped his head back down to narrow his eyes at her as his laughter abruptly faded. He made an abortive move, as if pulling something from his pocket, even starting to say something like, "Won't work, un - "

But then they locked gazes, and she had him. Hands formed in a perfect square, she growled, "Katsu!"

And she was suddenly inside a maelstrom of thoughts and sounds and such strange sensations that she felt herself stiffening, even as she watched her body through his eyes slump over on the floor.

_*What the fuck?* _His thoughts whirled around her, and she desperately tried to capture his awareness, seeking to subdue it but only getting tangled up to the point where she felt herself sinking beneath the weight of his overwhelming personality. Drowning in images and feelings that were not her own, Ino screamed. She tried to pull free of that sucking whirlpool of thoughts that was not hers, but his. To be lost within it was to lose forever her _self_, and she valiantly tried to push back out of his mind, but she was held fast by her own jutsu. _And then she was…_

…running down a street, eyes blurred by tears, as bigger boys chased her, taunting, always taunting. She ducked behind a fruit stand, sinking down on her butt in the dirt, chest heaving and heart racing, hoping they wouldn't see her, that she'd be safe from them, for this time at least. Their mocking laughter chased her, making her shudder as she cowered, trying to hide from everyone. "Bastard! Freak! _Bastard!"_

…and then she faced a terrible old man sneering down at her, telling her she was a shame on his bloodline. The little bastard who had cost him his beloved daughter's life, her birth the reason she'd died, and how unworthy and disappointing she was in every way possible…

…and then she was surrounded by genin who laughed as she tried and failed to do the simplest jutsu, so much smaller than they, always trying so hard to please everyone…

…and found herself running again, away from all the taunting bullies that always chased her. Found herself ducking this time inside a dark shop, one where such quiet peace reigned that she had to blink at the change from the dusty chaos outside to the quiet peace within. She found herself surrounded by sculptures, both plain and beautiful, and an old man whose eyes had never known light, born blind as he was. His hands - his hands were old and wrinkled and surprisingly graceful, and she watched those hands create the most beautiful objects, running smooth across the white surfaces, creating beauty out of ugly misshapen lumps of clay, and found acceptance for the first time ever, for he didn't question, he only ever created…

…and she found her own hands, scourge of her childhood, sign of her bastardry, taken by the old man's, and smoothing over the same contours, creating the same simplicity and beauty with an aching awe that _she_ could create such beauty with the ugliness of her own hands, the hands she'd been ridiculed for all her life…

…felt the steady spin of the potter's wheel, turning beneath her splayed fingers as her feet drove the muddy blob into beautiful symmetry and something useful…

…knew the simple joy of spreading her hands before the kiln fire, watching hopefully for her own small bowls to come out perfect and complete in and of themselves…

…felt the sting of shame as the old man found out she'd been skipping class again to spend time in the dark shop with the blind potter with the spotted, graceful hands that held the key to the only joy she had found in this bitter, lonely life. She felt the old man's anger as sharp as the birch rod he used to stripe her back and legs, snarling that he'd never tolerate his only grandson, bastard ingrate that she was, to play the pretty-boy with a dirty old peasant. She sobbed, in the chilling darkness of the dank cellar her grandfather locked her in as punishment, vowing she would find some way to keep the art close, wishing she could burn that leering old bastard with the fires of the kiln now denied her…

…felt the horror of finding the blind old man had been turned out of the stone village, his shop razed amid the broken shards of his destroyed living. Her grandfather had been thorough in his wrathful revenge, and no one would go against the testy edict of the sour old Tsuchikage. She felt her helplessness, then, her hopelessness, and raged against it. The tears came, for the last time, and even as she stood there, empty and shattered and crying, the bullies came to taunt her and push her, mocking her for the wet tracks across her dirty face. And for the first time, her fists curled and she fought back. She fought hard, kicking and biting and punching and screaming like one demented. They fell back before her fury, truly frightened by her ferocity, and called her crazy. A name that stuck ever after, to the point where she eventually learned to embrace it, turning the epithet into something to be proud of…

_The scenarios changed, perhaps because she was older, and understood better, and children only ever felt things so keenly…_

…the beatings continued, of course. The old man believed in harsh justice, and she often got into trouble. She didn't care. She welcomed the stripes on her skin for the anger it brought her, the determination to win past him. As stubborn and proud as the old man, they tested their wills against each other - she refusing to cry out, he refusing to give up. And even as her grandfather beat her with a harsh hand, he praised her for finally becoming a man, strong enough to stand her ground and fight her own battles, if only she would quit fighting so damn much…

….fight she did; for strength, for pride, for revenge. She tackled her ninja training with a ferocity never seen before, determined to show them all. Eventually she became the best, through sheer stubborn determination. The taunts still continued, though now in mocking whispers behind raised hands and smug, superior smiles as the true-blood sons of the Stone clans disparaged his bastardry and tried any way they could to trip her up. Constantly laying traps for her with broken equipment, dull knives, torn straps, and unclaimed accidents that were no accident at all…

…Their malicious jealousy actually led her back, ironically enough, to the lost joy of her childhood. Someone - no one would ever be found culprit, the old man uncaring and the teachers only saying it was the way of the Stone, the harsh truth of survival - had cut her climbing ropes, and she fell several feet into the river that raged its way over the tumbling rocks below. Mountain-fed, icy-cold, she felt herself numbing in the swirling water even as she struggled feebly against the angry clutch of the river. Battered and beaten bloody by the sharp rocks under the water's surface, she barely managed to climb out onto a muddy bank. She clutched the soggy soil as she retched the water from her lungs, her hands spasmodically opening and closing on the dirt, which got into the mouths on her hands. And that was when those mouths, so useless before now except for licking stamps - as one of the bullies had taunted - started chewing and spat out the lumpy clay…

…clay she could use and mold into the most beautiful shapes. Hidden away in her secret alcove above the dirty bank, the cave became her sanctuary against the world, allowing her to escape the petty ugliness of her miserable existence. It was there that she experimented, using finer sands and better grains to make firmer molds. It was there that she learned that her own bloodline limit, scourge of her childhood, was now her greatest weapon…

…it wasn't long before she'd perfected her art. Starting small, with tiny figures that exploded into little blossoms of light, glittering artistic displays that made her mind soar with all the creative possibilities. It was as if she were the kiln fires that had once sparked her childish imagination. There was something so cleansing and beautiful about destroying the ugliness around her with the purity of fire. Not only the ugliness of her dusty, barren surroundings, but the ugliness of her dusty, barren fellows, so steeped in tradition and surrounded by the rules and limits they so willing placed upon themselves…

…it was natural that one day the old man would confront her, demanding to know where and why she spent so much time away. There was some childish yearning left that wanted the old bastard's love and approval, and she'd proudly displayed her art, showing him what it might accomplish if put to practical, and beautiful, use. He laughed then, saying she was a fool and a romantic, hardly the man he'd raised her to be better than some dirt-grubbing potter. Her outrage at the old man's mocking disdain had fueled a flurry of cutting words that had the kage turning purple with rage. He'd snarled that she had never been anything but a worthless, pathetic bastard, and was no longer any true kin to him. She snarled back that Iwakagure had never been worthy of her, and the old man had raised his cane, as if to beat her like he had as a defenseless child, and she used her clay bombs to demonstrate he no longer had any power over _her_. The jounin who rushed to defend their Third had died as pathetically as they had lived, though they managed to save the old man by their stupid self-sacrifice. She fled then, for there were too many to contend with - though she took vicious delight in tossing a few of her more beautiful bombs on those who had mocked her the most before she left, leaving a trail of fiery destruction in her wake…

…her hands, always mocked, were the ones that cut the line savagely across the two squares of Iwakagure, cutting ties forever with the village who had never wanted her in the first place…

…it was then that she wandered, going from village to village, sometimes working at dull or dirty jobs, at other times hired for her special skills in explosive display or demolition. It was a time of contentment, for she could use and explore her art - all the more so once word of her skill spread. She enjoyed the challenge of each mission and the unfettered freedom that came with it. She disdained those who thought they were using her even as she used them to do that which she truly loved…

…There was a price to pay for the fame she relished almost as much as she did the creativity of her art. It confronted her in the stark reality of three missing-nin from Akatsuki. Angry that they would dare challenge her, she felt the horror of defeat at the cold-eyed Itachi's hands, and felt the fetters closing around her once again as Akatsuki claimed her as their own -

_Her world suddenly twisted back upon itself, the whirlpool spinning a kaleidoscope of images and sounds and feelings until she was all but sick and dizzy with it. She tried to cry out, uncertain what had attacked her - _

And abruptly found herself back inside her own body, slumped against the floor. She feebly tried to move, to push herself upright, but her arms refused to obey her. Pins and needles prickled along her skin, sending sharp messages to her throbbing head that it wasn't happy as the blood returned. She felt so cold, so very cold and alone and vulnerable, and memories suddenly flooded through her, memories that were not even hers, but _his_.

They were now as much a part of her psyche as her own, and it was hard to separate herself from them. Tears prickled beneath her lids, and she drew a ragged breath - uncertain if it was the shock of exposure, the fear she felt at her own weakness, or the terrible memories that now surged through her with all the poignancy of fresh emotion. Past pain felt in childhood was often dulled by time and distance, but she had just lived Deidara's past, all in a matter of minutes. All the agony of each hurt, each insult, each rejection and denial. Such betrayal and terrible, terrible determination amid stark loneliness and utter depravity filled her to the point where she could not contain them anymore, and she did that which she never, ever did.

She cried. Rolling into a ball of huddled misery, trying to fold herself around the pain and terror and the incomprehension of a child too young to understand _why_, and also knowing there was nothing she could even do to help that poor, unwanted child. Nothing, nothing, nothing - the inevitability of that, the knowledge that it was not something she could help or solve or fix, it was all too much. Her emotions, so raw and ripped opened like a bleeding wound, spilled forth in an agony of heart-wrenching sobs that would not stop, even when she felt Deidara staring at her in complete bafflement. His demand to know what the fuck was going on just made her curl all that much tighter around herself, for how could he understand? What in his life would have ever let him?

And that knowledge made it all the harder to bear now, when he tried to grab her, and she batted his hands away. Just like all those others had done - pushing him away, rejecting him and who he was, calling him freak and bastard and unnatural. Something she had never experienced in all of her own warm, well-loved childhood. How could she do that to him, push him away like all those cruel, indifferent people who should have been the ones to protect and nurture him, instead of ridicule and reject him?

He was kneeling beside her now, and she blindly turned and threw herself at him. Taken completely off-guard, he landed back on his butt with a grunt. She almost strangled him in a fierce hug, trying to tear the old pain away by offering what little she could. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so very, very sorry…"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to ever write. I really love the complicated dynamics between Deidara and Ino, and boy is it fun to delve into their psyches. =P_

**Chapter Five**

Deidara had no clue what the hell to do. The girl was plastered all over him like sticky clay and was drenching his shirt with her tears. Her muffled litany against his throat made him frown in baffled incomprehension.

Sorry? For what? For pushing him into that damn fountain? For making him stay up all night washing his damn clothes at the coin laundry? For fetching him one in the abdomen when he'd abducted her? For taking him so completely by surprise with the Shintenshen no Jutsu? But she hadn't the chakra to make it work - and his defenses, carefully built up since he'd been defeated by Itachi's genjutsu, had been strong enough to keep her from taking over his body. It had been a silent battle of wills as he kept her from taking full control by flattening her beneath the weight of his own awareness. It was a simple trick, one only a few knew, but quite effective. And when the jutsu had finally released her, she'd curled into a fetal position and started sobbing like someone had just stepped on her puppy. And now the deranged girl was all but strangling him in some kind of weird hug even as she blubbered all over him.

Granted, he _had_ been trying to get close to her, but this wasn't exactly the way he'd had in mind. Deidara suddenly grinned at the irony of it, and was more amused than put out as he nudged her again, trying to get her attention. "Hey, yeah."

She sniffled and looked up at him with watery blue eyes. She looked awful; her nose red, her cheeks flushed, her hair tangled all around her shoulders. One of the dark blue butterfly clips was missing, and a strand of her long, white-gold hair was stuck to her damp cheek. Her eyes were jewel-bright, like sapphires caught in the sun, and the depth of emotion in them made his breath catch.

She'd been so closed off before, he could not believe what he was now seeing. If eyes really were the windows to the soul, than hers had the shutters thrown wide to expose everything inside. He had never cared to glance inside anyone's "windows" - what really, was it to _him? _- but he was looking now, and he really didn't know how to take the mingle of sadness and compassion, pain and indecision that glowed in her jewel-bright eyes. If he'd been thinking right, he would have been annoyed by it, but it was like he was somehow caught in some new dojutsu, because he could not break that stare.

Break it he did, though, after a long, silent moment, his hand coming up to brush that dangling strand of hair back. His touch was gentle, for she seemed so fragile, like one of his finer, more delicate sculptures. She trembled slightly, and then, her eyes still locked on his, deliberately leaned into his open palm, her own fingers coming up to cover his.

She drew his hand down, holding it in both of hers. She looked at it, really looked at it, and he grew tense at her continued silence. But then her thumb lightly traced along the slit on his palm, and the slightly ticklish sensation caused the lips to part in a cheeky grin. He expected her to flinch back - the automatic reaction for so many - but she only smiled. She looked back up at him then, and her eyes were now as soft as early spring skies. The emotion was still overwhelmingly there, but now something soft and vulnerable and sweet, and she whispered, "They're beautiful, you know."

He frowned in confusion.

She laughed a little, though there was a catch in her throat, and tears brightened her eyes again. He didn't know anyone could hold that much damn water. She could flood a rice paddy with her blubbering.

The tears didn't fall, though, and she distracted him from the irritated thought by tracing both thumbs over the hand cupped lightly in hers. "Your hands," she said, her eyes dropping down to them, "Your hands are beautiful, Deidara."

He sneered, but it faded into stillness when she looked back up at him, her eyes glowing with truth. "You think they can only create beauty, terrible beauty - " she shuddered, recalling what kind of terrible beauty, and then went valiantly on, "but they are beautiful in themselves."

He stared at her. Her eyes were resolute, even as her thumbs continued to trace soothing circles across his palm. He wondered if she was even conscious of the distracting gesture.

Her eyes turned sad, a wealth of fear and pain passing through her troubled expression. "I - I can't pretend to completely condone the choices you have made, or the things that you do, but I can understand now, a little, what has driven you to them."

His eyes narrowed in sudden anger as comprehension dawned. "The Shintenshen - you're a telepath, yeah."

She nodded slowly, her eyes dropping to her hands, which still loosely cupped his. Quick as a flash, he turned his hand over, the other coming up to grip both of her wrists in a bone-jarring hold that slowly tightened. _"What did you see?"_

ooOOOoo

She gasped as his hands deliberately tightened around her wrists, crushing the fine bones together. She struggled weakly, trying to break his iron hold, but she was exhausted from using the Shintenshen technique, and more drained of chakra than normal.

"What are you - !" she demanded, more than a little afraid of the almost crazed look in his blue eye.

_"What did you see?"_ He broke through her protest with a snarl like a cornered animal.

She couldn't lie to him, not now.

"Everything," she whispered, miserably aware that that might be the last word she ever uttered, for the look in his wild eyes (or the one she could see) told her that much.

He stilled, his expression becoming no expression. He was too good at that. Rather like Sasuke. Ino hid a shiver, resolutely meeting his eyes and squaring her shoulders, expecting the worst. She was a kunoichi of Konoha, she wouldn't ever flinch from death - just from doling it out, for the terror or surprise of a dying mind was strong enough to always win past any barrier she tried to use to block it out.

"Everything." His voice was flat, as opaque as his gaze.

Coward that she was, she couldn't watch him deal the death blow. Closing her eyes, she held her breath and waited for what seemed hours to her thudding heart.

"Damn it!" He dropped her wrists like they burned and whirled away. He moved so fast it seemed as if one moment he was kneeling in front her, her wrists caught in his hard grip, and the next he was standing, back to her, at the mouth of the cave, one fist smacking against the rough wall. Ino sat silently watching him, wondering what the hell was going on when he stopped and stared at his fist, slowly uncurling it and looking at his opened palm. He stood there for too long, and she sat there for too long, too weary to even do more than stare at him, her mind too numb to even wonder what he was thinking.

He finally turned back around, one hand idly rubbing the other palm. The red light of the scope covering his left eye looked almost demonic through the ruddy-gold curtain of his bangs, but the smoky blue eye she could see was almost regretful. "You are a Leaf-nin, and I am an Akatsuki, un."

He said that like it would explain-and perhaps, excuse - what he must do.

"A missing nin," she said, wearily agreeing with him. "A terrorist for hire."

He raised a single brow.

"I don't know what or who Akatsuki is," she said, "but I…understand." Maybe. The cool part of her did, the shinobi who understood that you never left anyone alive. The human part of her, though, wasn't ready to reconcile with that hard rule. She didn't want to die. She would, though, if she had to. For Konoha.

He frowned, his gaze sharpening. "You don't know who Akatsuki is? But you said you saw everything, yeah."

"I…saw the Uchiha. Itachi." She hugged her knees, shivering at the indifferent look in the recollection of those black eyes. He really was a cold-blooded killer, to have eyes like that.

Eyes so much like Sasuke's had become since his older brother had killed all of their family in one single night of horror, fleeing into the night like the base murderer he was, becoming an outlaw and disappearing to who knew where. This Akatsuki, or whatever it was, she guessed.

"What else, un?" he demanded.

She shrugged, helpless to know why it was so important, though a dawning hope took hold. She didn't know how he would feel about how much she did know, or if not knowing what she didn't would make any difference. "I saw him confront you, with two others. Someone blue? And a short, red-haired man. I felt your anger, that they…defeated…you." His fists tightened, that anger still there. She shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting his sharp gaze. "And then the jutsu ended, and I - woke up."

Crossing his arms in front of him, he stared at her. Ino was really becoming irritated with that. She let her annoyance show, one last spurt of rebellion. "Well? Why are just standing there? If you're going to kill me, than just do it!"

His lips quirked, as if he found her outburst amusing. Jerk. "You're that ready to die, Ino-chan?"

The endearment was disgusting, especially with his slow drawl. "Don't call me that," she said angrily, adding waspishly, "Deidara-_kun_."

She didn't have the energy to keep up her anger. Gods, she had never felt so drained, both physically and emotionally. Her mind kept fogging over at odd moments, coming in waves like a headache she was too tired to truly feel. "You've already tried to do that, haven't you? Kill me?"

His expression was inscrutable.

She couldn't quite keep the tremble from her shoulders, though she clasped her hands tighter around her knees so that their shaking wouldn't betray her further. "That day in the forest. With the butterflies. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." He didn't seem put out that she knew. He was so disconnected from everything, and everyone. Even knowing why he was so disconnected did nothing to help the sliver of chill that the knowledge brought. Others just couldn't intrude on his singular, narcissistic awareness. She stared at her knees, miserable with that truth.

_"Why?" _she demanded, her voice breaking. She had relived that nightmare over and over in the dark of the night, waking screaming from the near-death she had barely escaped that afternoon. She could not stand to look at lilies, especially red ones, which had always been the most beautiful to her. She had never strayed from the village after that, even to cloud-gaze with Shikamaru, whose meadow retreat it had been before Deidara's terrible clay bombs had destroyed it.

He shrugged, though his eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if he was calling the scene up before him. His voice was low, almost dreamy. "You were beautiful. Lying there, sleeping. So innocent and perfect, like a tennyo caught unawares…"

Ino stared at him. He smiled dreamily, and her knuckles whitened around her knees. She wanted to shake so bad from the fear that engulfed her with that dreamy smile. There was nothing sane about it.

"I wanted to preserve that image forever. But time changes everything, and I knew that eventually even that beautiful scene would fragment and disintegrate. I knew I had to keep it pure, keep it for me and only me by claiming it for all time with the beauty of my art."

He suddenly looked at her, and smiled wistfully. "It was to be a masterpiece of epic fire."

ooOOOoo

_"You had no right."_

Her whisper was hoarse, the tears thick in her throat also brightening her eyes, which glowed like sun-caught sapphires. So beautiful she was, even now, when she was so completely unconscious of it.

He raised a mocking brow, honestly demanding, "Why the hell not, un?"

Her eyes widened in shock. How typical. He was almost disappointed with her predictable reaction, and smirked when she stuttered, "Because…well, because, it's _wrong_."

"How, yeah?" He enjoyed her baffled expression, and was more honest than he had ever been to anyone as he said carelessly, "I've never concerned myself with the customs and mores society puts on us, yeah, just for the fact that it's tradition to bind ourselves with such outmoded ideas. Why should I restrict or limit the expression of my art just because someone can't understand it or finds it distasteful, un? Who are they to judge _me_, and why should I care what _they_ think, hmm?"

She only looked at him like he was demented. He shrugged, refusing to show that he cared. People had always looked at him like that, even before he fully embraced his art for the beautiful freedom it was.

"What they think." Her hands were held so tight he could almost hear the knuckles popping. "What about _me? _What about what _I _think of it?"

He shrugged, hiding his unease at the lie. It unsettled him that it _was_ a lie, when it never would have been before. "Why would that concern me, either, un?"

"Because I never asked to become a part of your _art_," she spat that last word like an epithet, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Was she deriding his creativity? His passion? The very reason for his existence?

Her tears had dried, and her eyes were hard and glittering, though still red-rimmed with fatigue. She shook with her anger, or perhaps her weariness, and she seemed so fragile, as if she would break with the fury in her strained voice, which started out as a hoarse whisper and steadily rose to a shrill cry. "How can I not be as important as you? How dare you think that I, or anyone else, could be less than you! That they, or I, don't have our own thoughts and feelings and dreams and desires! How can you take that away from them, just on a whim? How can you kill them for _art_ and not even care that you are doing it? How can you be that _selfish?"_

His mouth quirked up in a smile as he shrugged. "Everyone has to die sometime, and why not for something beautiful, un?"

She had no answer for that, perhaps too dumbfounded or shocked to think of one. She only stared at him, completely uncomprehending. It was his turn to demand, abruptly turning the tables on her, "Why should they matter to you, un? What have they ever done for _you, _yeah?"

Her shoulders fell, as if defeated by his sincere question. She rubbed her eyes wearily, and he thought he had her stumped, until she said softly, "It doesn't matter what they have done, or not done, for me."

He waited, determined to make her justify herself as she had made him. She sighed. "How can I even explain what I know you can never understand?" She looked lost, her eyes suddenly so sad and defeated. "I…I…understand you, and yet I don't. I understand _why_ you might not have formed any of those bonds with other people that most do. Your childhood was terrible."

He stiffened. What had that to do with anything? He hated that she knew so much about him, but really, what difference did it make?

"But I…I've seen and heard worse, and that's not enough excuse. You have free will."

Of course he had free will, and what he choose to do with it was what he chose to do with it, end of story.

"What I can't understand, and what I don't think you can ever understand, is that other people are just as important as you are. To themselves, if not to you. And they are precious, each in themselves. Life…life is so precious - "

"You, a kunoichi, say that?" he scoffed, and she flinched. _*Ha! Got you there, un!* _

She stared at her hands, as if she could see the blood on them, and slowly curled them into fists. "I cannot deny that. I'm shinobi. I will take a life to protect my village or those I love."

"How _selfish_ of you, yeah," he mocked, deliberately throwing her words back in her face.

She laid her tousled head on her bent knees, hiding her face, as if unable to argue further. He sneered, triumphant that he had won, though the victory seemed somehow hollow. She was quiet for so long, he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but her voice eventually broke the silence in a whisper almost too low for him to hear. "I can _feel_ them. Feel them _dying_. I know when their mind, their thoughts, their dreams, _stop_, and…it's…they're…gone forever."

She shuddered, a sob breaking through her hoarse admittance. _"I can't bear it."_

Deidara was silent, turning over her words, and not certain what he could say. She was a telepath, and if sensitive enough, would be able to sense others' thoughts, even without deliberately engaging her ninjutsu. That aspect of it had never occurred to him. He didn't know if he could have withstood knowing what other people were actually thinking. The idea was completely foreign to him, and one he would never want or desire. Such intimacy with other people…ugh.

"That sucks, yeah," he said, and she suddenly laughed, a broken, almost hysterical sound. She was so fragile, so close to the edge of breaking, he couldn't understand how she had survived for so long. The revelation struck him that she had to be strong - stronger, maybe, than even him - to have done so.

And maybe that was what led him to do the unnatural - at least, unnatural for _him_ - and go over to kneel down beside her as he had before. But this time, when she threw herself into his arms, he found his closing around her and holding her close as she cried, this time for herself. And he let her, just because he somehow understood her need to do so, and perhaps, her tears were the ones he could not shed for himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Naruto. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

**Artless**

_A/N: I promised Pookey518 I would have a chapter up by the end of September. This is about a week late, but I'm already working on the next. Oh, and I just raised this story's rating to "M" thanks to a certain artist's lascivious thoughts. =) _

**Chapter Five**

The shadows grew long as the light eventually dimmed into true night. Her broken sobs slowly turned to muffled tears and then silence as she finally quieted in the embrace of his arms. Ino was reluctant to break that silence, and so tired she could have fallen asleep against his warmth. But she had already been enough of a baby, blubbering all over him. He was probably disgusted by her weakness, and only being nice to her.

It humbled her that he would, and it embarrassed her that he had seen her crack like that. She had never told anybody just how horrible her telepathic sensitivity could be. Never explained her reluctance to actually deal the death blow except when the passion of outrage suffused her so much that all other thoughts - including theirs - could be pushed aside. She knew it was wrong to embrace the rage of battle that way; her father would kill her if he knew. She almost giggled at the stupid thought - yet another symptom of just how stupid-tired she was. She tended to get a little absurd when her brain was so fogged by fatigue that she couldn't even think straight.

Which probably explained why she finally broke the silence with, "Huh. You smell nice." She rubbed her nose against the rough nap of his black trench coat, taking another sniff. "Like matches."

That should have disturbed her, really it should. Especially with the way he liked to blow people up using his beautiful clay sculptures. But it didn't, and she was too stupid-tired to care why.

"Matches, un?" He sounded more amused than offended, like she half-expected.

"Um-hmm," Ino agreed on a sigh, closing her eyes despite her former resolution not to. Just a few minutes, that was all she really needed…

"You sure cry a lot, yeah."

Ino blinked. She was too tired to do more than stiffen. She tilted her head back, her hair rustling along the rough fabric of his coat and tickling her cheek as she looked up at him. The evil red light of his scope provided a dim, bloody light. It was too dark to see the expression in his eyes, but the curve of his lips lifted a little at she raised her gaze to his. She felt his arms tighten around her, drawing her up even as his head bent. He suddenly captured her lips with his, and she was melting against him, going all boneless in surprise. A strange lethargy stole over her as his mouth worked lightly across hers.

His lips were soft, nibbling, and strangely coaxing. Her breath hitched, for it was everything she had ever envisioned a first kiss could be, even if the circumstances weren't just as she'd pictured. For one, this wasn't Sasuke, and for another, Deidara wasn't exactly the kind of guy she could ever bring home to Daddy.

But _damn_, he was a good kisser. He had to be, to be causing a hundred birds to suddenly take wing inside her stomach and have her toes curling inside her funky black sandals just as she'd dreamily told Sakura would be the hallmark of a man who knew his business. Closing her eyes, Ino gave herself up to it, her mouth softening beneath his as he took his sweet time with slow, deliberate motions. His tongue tickled along her bottom lip, and she sighed in bemused delight when he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept inside, and her breath was suddenly coming short as she gripped his coat in her hands, a strange hunger adding to the intensity of it all.

Heady with the sensations, she felt even more drunk than before when Deidara finally pulled his mouth away. Her eyes slowly opened, and she smiled softly even as he grinned and abruptly kissed the top of her head like a child. She frowned in confusion, but he whispered huskily, "Sleep, un. You're exhausted."

She might have said something, maybe not. She didn't know, for her eyes were closing, and she nestled even closer to him, snug in his warmth and the sudden knowledge that she could trust him, even just to know her boundaries. She treasured that knowledge, even as the darkness took her, and she slept, a smile on her swollen lips.

ooOOOoo

Not fucking her then and there was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his entire life.

Deidara frowned in chagrin even as he shrugged Ino's limp body into a better position against him. She didn't weigh much - she really was a tiny thing. She looked like a child, sleeping so trustingly against his shoulder. Her body, on the other hand, was definitely not that of a child's. And gods, he had never been so tempted to just forget all this new-found nobility bullshit when that thin little strap on her blue tank top slithered down her shoulder. She wore nothing beneath it, as he was fully aware, and his treacherous gaze followed the creamy line of her skin, delving into the shadowy holloe between her curving breasts. He felt himself hardening, and shifted uncomfortably. She sighed softly in her sleep, and his eyes went heavenward at the sound.

This sucked. More than sucked - damn it, his treacherous brain had just conjured an image of those sweet, kiss-swollen lips around a certain throbbing part of him. His black nails tangled up in her white-blond hair as he looked down his toned body through lowered lids to meet the sultry look in hers. Oh, gods…

This was going to be one long fucking night.

ooOOOoo

When she awoke, she was alone. Deidara had left her his trench coat as a blanket, so she wasn't sure if he was just outside the cave, intending to return, or if he had left it to her as a gift. Feeling self-conscious and strangely bereft, Ino stood up. Hugging the thick coat to her, she distractedly brushed that stupid tangle that kept falling over her cheek back behind her ear and thought longingly of a shower. She felt _gritty, _and probably looked worse. Sleeping on the floor of a cave wasn't conducive to looking one's best in the morning. The idea wasn't half so romantic as it was in reality.

Not that she ever looked her best first thing in the morning. But what woman did, rumpled from sleep with a bad case of bed-head? Ino sighed, wishing she had a comb to tame the wild mane tangling down her back. She made a face. "Roughing it" with no supplies sure sucked.

"Morning, un."

She looked up, surprised that she hadn't heard him return. A blush stole up her cheeks, and she suddenly felt shy. Uncertain what to say, she could only stare at him.

Deidara certainly didn't look like he'd spent all night in a cave. In fact, he looked too damn good for this damn early. Acknowledging that sat both sour in her stomach and caused little tingles to run all over her skin, recalling just how strong those arms had felt around her, or how firm that muscled chest. Or how warm those smirking lips…

She stirred, uncomfortably aware of just how long they'd simply been staring at each other, and finally offered awkwardly, "Hi."

And then mentally kicked herself for sounding like an idiot. _'Nice, Ino. Real suave, there.'_

But what else could she say? Thank you? Blow up anything lately? Like breakfast? Say, you got a comb? Or better yet, a bathroom? Or how about: thanks for not taking advantage of me last night, that was really cool. So was letting me bawl all over you yesterday - which would just be too wretched an admittance of her own weakness. Or equally stellar: thanks for not killing me, that would have put a real damper on our relationship.

Ha. _What _relationship, exactly, did they have to one another? For there, really, lay the root of the problem. So she got a peek inside his head. Which wasn't that comforting, actually, when all was said and done. It didn't change who he was. In fact, he just cemented the knowledge that he was rather incapable of change. And he…well, he had gotten more than a dose of her own inadequacies, which was just too uncomfortable to even think about. And while Deidara was hot, he was also a missing-nin who saw nothing wrong in blowing people up for the sake of his "art."

And Ino couldn't just ignore that fact. She couldn't get past it, either, not really. For he was just such a narcissist, while she…she was a Konoha kunoichi who hated killing, felt too strongly what others felt and wasn't even half the ninja he was. The admittance sat sour in her stomach, too, and she frowned pensively. _'For jeez, while it's been great and all…'_

So…what now?

ooOOOoo

He could read her thoughts so easily. She wore them on her face for anyone who cared to look. It was as endearing as it was annoying, for she couldn't hide anything from him. But the doubt and trepidation he saw in her beautiful blue eyes secretly ate at him.

She was so angelic. That face - the artless purity of it, the wide-eyed innocence that saw too simply a world so completely undeserving of her faith in it, so truly unworthy of her concern and care. He couldn't understand that, had no way to, and didn't really care for that encumbrance anyway.

But he cared about her. Her innocence and her purity. She was so untouched, and so untouchable. A true tennyo he could only admire from afar. And oh, how he longed to keep that ideal arrested in this single moment.__Keep it completely to himself - for it was still there, that wild desire to claim her as she was, as _his_ for all time. But to do so would be to utterly destroy it, for she was more now than just the superficial beauty she wore so easily.

She was just_…more_. That spirit, that passion and fire that made her who she was, yes, even that silly concern for others that opened her to such pain. She felt so keenly, and couldn't even admit the strength it took to bear the terrible contradiction between her heightened empathy and her chosen calling. Would that sweet innocence fade in time, destroyed by the harsh truth of the world they lived in?

He couldn't bear the thought, but he couldn't contain it, either, even to keep it - _her_ - pure. Who was he to imprison another, when the restrictions put on him by his own people had always ate so much at him? Yes, not even to keep her safe. Because he knew, like the flowers she loved, she would eventually wilt and die under such a prison, and then__he would have destroyed that which he only sought to preserve…

He reached out, he couldn't help himself, and lightly cupped her upturned cheek against his calloused palm. Her skin was soft and pale beneath the healthy tan of his. She stared up at him, her questioning so sweet he could only smile before bending down to gently kiss her. One last time, to savor that innocence and fire that came so readily in response to his lightest urging. He sought to capture it in his memory, keep it pure and frozen, as the passion blossomed into fiery heat inside of him, like the fierce explosion of his art, setting his very blood on fire with its heady release. He bathed himself in the urgency of that passion, reveled in an emotion that was like the swept-away euphoria he normally only experienced through creation, and then pulled away.

She stood there, blue eyes wide in astonishment, mouth kiss-swollen and slightly open in her surprise. He could only stare down at her, savoring that final image, and then gently take his coat from her lax fingers. He smiled, somewhat wistfully, and flipped her two fingers in a final salute before turning his back and striding resolutely away.

ooOOOoo

He…left. Just left. As if that was supposed to be it, as if that was enough.

Why, that insufferable _jerk!_

Ino cursed loud and long, all the way back to Kotanashi. Which was quite a hike on an empty stomach and funky black sandals not made for such rough terrain. She glared at every stupid tree and every stupid bird and every stupid bush she had to scramble through, up and around as she oriented herself by the sun as the day waned. Limping, sweaty, and out of sorts, she was not pleased to be greeted by the sour face of her teammate, Shikamaru, upon her return.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, angry at the worry she'd caused all of them when they'd shown up to rendezvous with the blonde kunoichi and found her distinctly absent.

A worry which cleared as Chouji and Asuma both greeted their missing teammate with laconic relief. While feeling bad about giving her team such anxiety, Ino was fairly put out as Sakura's smug appraisal took in her rather bedraggled appearance with a raised brow.

That was just the cherry on top of what had been one exceptionally bad day.

ooOOOoo

She didn't know why she felt so reluctant to tell the others the real reason she wasn't where she was supposed to be when Team 10 and Sakura had come to rendezvous with her in Kotonashi. She couldn't lie, not exactly, but she did varnish over the truth, giving only a sketchy story of being attacked and dumped in a cave, coming to and taking all day to make it back to the village. They were so relieved she was all right, Ino felt kind of bad about it. But since her story made the Hokage later reconsider elevating the mission to jonin rank, and send others to investigate what was, in the end, a real problem, that soothed her guilty conscience a little.

Not that her pride wasn't already smarting at having failed her first solo mission. And she knew Shikamaru, at least, suspected she wasn't telling them everything. She probably hadn't fooled Asuma-sensei either, since she'd overheard him wondering about the guy she'd been seen flirting with the night before by some of the villagers he'd questioned. Asuma chalked her reluctance up to being young and foolish and having been distracted from her mission by a handsome face. That stung, that her sensei would think she'd be so silly and flighty as to do something dumb like that. But it was so close to the truth that _that_ stung even worse.

And there were surprising repercussions to her failed mission. For one, there was a distance between her and Shikamaru that had never existed before, and a certain lack of faith in her abilities and trust in her steadiness by the other members of her team. And of course, in the way ridiculous speculations shouldn't, all the stupid conjectures about _why_ she'd failed her mission got out, and rumors sprang up about her reliability as a ninja. Granted, she'd always been a bit boy-crazy, especially in regards to Uchiha Sasuke, but _come on! _By the way rumors were flying around now,__that was all she _ever_ thought about. Boys, and clothes, and all the other silly things teenage girls were supposed to have stuffed inside their dumb heads.

She'd never felt the disadvantages of being a cute blonde more than now. Maybe she'd been a little _too_ skilled at evading getting too close to others by playing the thoughtless twit,__because now even her father was buying into it. He'd lightened up on insisting she study the clan jutsu, which was a relief, but started dropping broad hints that maybe being a shinobi wasn't for her. The Hokage even cut back on her medical training, "freeing" her to help out more in the family flower shop.

Which was just annoying as hell. Because what Ino hated more than being so psychically sensitive to others was being thought weak or ineffectual. And it was _there_, in the sudden way Sakura ceased gloating over how much more she'd learned about ninjutsu, or how her other friends carefully avoided talking about all the missions they'd been sent on while she'd been left to stew in the shop. And their thoughts, which she _couldn't_ avoid, and pity hurt so much she just ended up avoiding them more, which they took to mean she really _was_ reconsidering becoming a ninja.

Which just left her feeling all the more lonely and isolated. Their misunderstanding - when her friends, at least, should know her better - just left her feeling like they'd never known her at all. And maybe they hadn't, because she had become so skilled at keeping her true self hidden and separated it had become habit. And since everyone thought she was the blonde bimbo she'd always pretended to be, why, she might as well just keep playing it.

Even though that mask now made her sick. But she had a sinking awareness that really, that was everyone expected of her, and she was cursed to lie in the bed she had made for herself.

Maybe that was why, in retrospect, that that single night she had spent with Deidara became all the more significant. Because he, crazy as he was, had seen the truth, had seen _her_ for who she really was. And he - understood. Somewhat. Though that part was a little hazy as the weeks, and then months, passed, and maybe she was giving it more significance than she really should.

But…well, maybe she was a soft fool, but she couldn't help but compare the pain and isolation he had suffered that was really still so much worse than she was even now going through. And she replayed those childhood memories - _his_ memories - that were as much a part of her now as her own. And her admiration grew that Deidara had managed to overcome those who had doubted him, to grow so strong and confident in himself _despite_ them. And in a way that she was starting to doubt she ever could…

ooOOOoo

She _did_ go on missions, though hardly the number she'd gone on before that stupid Kotanashi. And it was humiliating enough that she was only ever sent out with Team 10, who were so much stronger than her, and always went out of their way to protect her, claiming it was because she was a medic-nin. Ha! That spurious excuse was just Shikamaru's way of soothing her injured pride, that she, and her skills, were counted so little by those who should have known her the best.

That hurt more than she could admit. But since _her_ hurt could only hurt her team, distracting them, she kept it to herself, and pretended to be okay with the way they shielded her from any true danger. Because they _did_ care about her. Too much so. But in all the wrong ways, and for all the wrong reasons. But her resentment made her feel so guilty, and it twisted inside her, making her feel even more wrong for it. A part of her started to believe that maybe they were right, that there was something inherently wrong with her, though she stubbornly tried to deny it.

But by the time Naruto finally returned from studying with the Toad Sage a few months later, the bubbly act had become almost fact, so good had she become at hiding her true feelings, even from herself. And when she learned the truth about Akatsuki, and the danger Deidara posed, she felt such guilt about her earlier reticence that she couldn't possibly say a word _now._ And so lies built on more lies just led to more guilt, which just led to more avoidance of her friends and more acting the boy-crazy, vapid idiot everyone thought her.

But she was silently crying inside, even as she smiled brightly and chattered inanely about just how _cute_ that new boy Sai was, or cheerfully dismissed how Sakura got sent to Suna and not her. Or how the knowledge that Deidara had killed the Kazekage, injuring a lot of people in the process, just plain hurt. For while she knew what the man was capable of, had known all along, in her heart of hearts, she had wished…that it was different, that _he_ was different. That maybe, just maybe, their little whatever-it-was back in the cave that night had…she didn't know, made a difference, caused a change, somehow, in his singular narcissism.

But that stupid, childish hope just went the way of all the others, crushed by the bleak reality she now found herself in. And stuck in her own self-pity and melancholy, when the bottom of her world really did fall out from under her, and she knelt beside Asuma-sensei's body, knowing it was _her_ inherent weakness that had brought about his inevitable death, the tears that spilled down her cheeks were for what she had become, a weak fool.

Death was horrible, for it called forth all the most terrible emotions. And she felt the knife of her own weakness twist deeper inside her heart each time she _shared_ the horrible grief inside Shikamaru, which he hid behind a grim mask, _knew_ the bleak pain in Kurenai's lowered eyes, _felt_ the quiet hurting of Chouji's gentle spirit.

For a time, anger helped. The anger of vengeance, of finding Asuma's killers and the bitter justice of exacting their revenge. That rage, so twisted and savage and ugly, kept the haunting sense of loss at bay, kept the horrible guilt she had at not saving her sensei from gnawing inside her heart with the weakness of her own cowardice. It sustained her, right there up until the end, when she had _felt_ the agony of that disgusting Kakuzu's final surrender into the embrace of death.

She had shared his mortal terror of that inevitable finality. The when the last surge of his thoughts - for his mind had been especially powerful, a complex quilt woven of rich experiences built up over more than a hundred years of actual _living_ - and then the awful stillness _after _as those thoughts, _his_ thoughts, abruptly vanished, her traitorous mind _screamed_ at the very silence she had sought. The agony folded back on her that even so brutal a beast as Kakuzu was still so very precious in his incredible individuality, and her very identity warred with itself. There was so much death, too much damn death, and the grim satisfaction the others felt left her feeling all the more lost and guilty for feeling…sad…at the end of it.

And that…that was ever so much worse. For Kakuzu's death didn't cleanse the stain of Asuma's, and the horror of the experience haunted her more than she could ever tell anyone…

There was just so much _death_. And it was _horrible_. And perhaps that was why, when she heard Deidara was to confront Sasuke, she couldn't just sit idly by and let two people she had _known_ more than truly anyone else just go and kill each other. And maybe that was why she eventually did the unthinkable, and betrayed her village.


End file.
